


After the Leaves Have Fallen

by HarpforHim



Series: Tales of Iroh and Zuko [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Ba Sing Se, Episode: s02e15 Tales of Ba Sing Se, Gen, Iroh (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Iroh (Avatar) loves Tea, Oblivious Zuko (Avatar), POV Zuko (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28823952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpforHim/pseuds/HarpforHim
Summary: “I’ve been…” The portrait of a serene-looking Lu Ten flashed across his mind’s eye and Zuko lowered his gaze even further. “I’ve been so horrible to you. Why do you even stay with me? What makes you stay?”Following the Tale of Iroh, Zuko is startled to discover he’s forgotten perhaps the most important date of his uncle’s life.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Lu Ten & Zuko, mentioned
Series: Tales of Iroh and Zuko [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113380
Comments: 9
Kudos: 88





	After the Leaves Have Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Avatar: The Last Airbender fic! I’m almost finished with Book II and have yet to experience the magnificence that is Book III. Until then, I have written this short story in the meantime. After having just watched the episode Tales from Ba Sing Se, I just had to write the aftermath of Iroh’s tale.  
> Because I’m so new to this fandom, I hope you’ll forgive any character inaccuracies or OCCs. XD
> 
> Enjoy!

His uncle was late, not that Zuko was worried—he _wasn't_ —but the sun had set long ago and Iroh had yet to show his face at their front door.

When he'd told Zuko earlier that morning that he was going to spend their one day off work alone, the teen had been skeptical—because _what am_ _ **I**_ _supposed to do?_ To which, Iroh had grinned wide and told him to find a hobby.

_Right._

Zuko _had_ no hobbies that didn't involve some sort of weaponry or form of combat. Which… was probably why his uncle had encouraged him to find one.

It turned out that sitting in his room didn't count as a hobby, nor was it very stimulating. How he ever just and brooded in his quarters back on the ship was beyond him.

Then again, it was a different time then. At least, it _felt_ different…

Wandering about the Lower Circle wasn't much of a hobby either and his travels had quickly brought him back to their tiny apartment, where he'd spent the last few hours trying—and failing—to make the perfect blend of tea.

It took everything in him not to throw his latest attempt—which wasn't half bad, but it wasn't _perfect_ —again the wall. That would shatter the tea pot, and Zuko definitely didn't want his uncle to come home to a mess.

Not when he'd been working so long and hard to make sure Iroh returned from wherever he was to a nice, steaming cup of tea.

If he could even _make_ one. Working in a tea shop had yet to improve his skills with a teapot. All he could do was his best and hoped it lived up to his uncle's standards.

_He's not like Father,_ Zuko reminded himself, glancing at the door for the umpteenth time. _There are no standards._ At least, none he had to live up to. _Not yet…_

_No!_ He sucked in a breath. _There aren't_ _ **any**_ _._

It was a concept he was still wrestling with— _slowly._ Painstakingly.

_Inhale, exhale._

Eyeing the teapot, Zuko mentally prepared himself for another long session of brewing that was practically _destined_ to fail. And yet, he kept trying anyway.

_Azula always said I don't know when to quit…_

Another quick glance at the door felt the same as the last, and the one before that. Empty. And slightly panicked.

No. _No!_ There would be _no_ panicking tonight, at least not on his part. _Uncle can take care of himself._ _He doesn't need you worrying about him._

And he wasn't worried. He _wasn't._

He was _just…_

Zuko glanced at the door again. Nothing.

_Concerned._

He frowned at the thought. Concerned was just a vaguer form of _worried._

And perhaps he really _was_ worr—

Zuko would never admit to jolting at the sound of the doors sliding closed. In fact, he didn't remember even hearing them open in the first place.

His sharp reflexes were becoming too relaxed in this mundane, refugee life.

He'd have to fix that…

"How was your day, nephew?"

Zuko had predicted the question well before his uncle uttered the familiar words, and yet, it felt different somehow. There was a certain tone to his voice that the young prince couldn't quite decipher.

_Dull._ But, no, he couldn't say that. Of course, he _could_ , and normally, he _would_. Only, sarcastic retorts and gloomy comebacks felt wrong at that moment.

And he was wracking his brain in a desperate attempt to figure out _why_.

"It was fine."

Turning, Zuko watched attentively as his uncle unloaded his things. His hat, his shoes, and some sort of picnic basket Zuko _definitely_ didn't remember him leaving with that morning.

When Iroh made no reply, opting for a simple nod instead, Zuko swallowed.

"How was yours?" That seemed like the right thing to ask. Though the pleasantry tasted odd on his tongue, Zuko had to reassure himself with the fact that this was the first time he and his uncle had been separated on an occasion that didn't risk life or death.

So, of course it would feel weird to say such things. _It shouldn't, though._

And once upon a long time ago, it wouldn't have…

Suddenly, the air in the room seemed to thicken and a heavy awkwardness settled over the banished prince. Usually, it was Uncle Iroh who would be doing all the talking, telling Zuko fun facts, however relevant or _ir_ relevant, and all Zuko would have to do was hang back and listen.

It wasn't as though Zuko found silences like this umbarable. In fact, the more recent quiet moments between him and his uncle were some of his favorites.

Because they could just sit and _be_ together; he could pretend all of this was normal.

That they weren't wanted fugitives or Fire Nation refugees so completely out of place in the Earth Kingdom capital.

That his sister wasn't slowly losing her mind trying to capture and kill him.

That his father wasn't the monster who haunted his dreams at night.

It was Iroh's gentle sigh that brought him back to the current moment. _One moment at a time, Zuko. One moment at a time…_

"It was…" Iroh's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "… All I had expected it to be."

Zuko felt confusion dance across his face against his will. "Is that… good?"

With a slowness that was unusual even for an aging warrior, Iroh made his way across the room. "That all depends on how I choose to look at it."

And what was _that_ supposed to mean?

Trying not to succumb to his rising irritation at the old man's cryptic replies, Zuko turned back to his teapot.

"I thought that was tea I smelled," Iroh said, coming up behind Zuko and peering over his shoulder.

"I was trying to have it ready for you when you came home," Zuko explained quickly as the flames sparked, seeming to subtly remind the boy exactly where his skills landed on the scales of perfection. "But… It's _not._ "

_As if he can't already_ _**see** _ _that for himself._

"That was a very nice thought, Zuko." And once again, there was that strange tone snaking its way around his uncle's normally cut and dry vocal expressions. "Very nice."

"It'd be nicer if it was _finished_. Why does tea take so _long_?"

_I've been at this for hours!_ But he kept that last part tucked safely in the back of his mind. After all, he'd been told recently that added comments like that eat away at the overall effect of kind gestures.

_Yeah, sure, Uncle._

"All good things take time," Iroh explained, giving Zuko a soft pat on the shoulder. His hand felt heavy, as if weighed down by… something.

Something Zuko couldn't quite figure. _Yet._

Complaining about how inadequate a brewer he was and how horrible the tea would no doubt taste was on the tip of his tongue; Zuko's mouth was poised and ready to speak.

But something about the way his uncle eased himself down on the nearest cushin had Zuko biting his tongue. Perhaps now wasn't the time for a gloomy disclaimer, and he was pretty certain Iroh was already well-aware of his tea making capabilities.

Instead, he found his gaze drifting about the room, searching for something—anything—to occupy his time. Something useful; something that would help his uncle…

It seemed strangely like he needed it.

His feet were driving him forward before his brain could even register the movement. It wasn't as if it would even matter, and his uncle would probably pick up his stuff later anyway. But in their small lodgings, even the slightest out of place item made the room look like the biggest mess in the kingdom.

And it's not like there was anything else to do…

After neatly hanging up Iroh's hat, Zuko snatched up the picnic basket—honestly, they didn't have room for extra stuff like that, and when were they _ever_ going to go on a _picnic_?—and turned to find a good place to put it. Easier considered than accomplished.

It was his failure to return Iroh's shoes to their proper place that was his downfall, and the bulky objects combined with Zuko's unnecessary haste sent him stumbling across the room. In an effort to keep from colliding with the floor, he fumbled for a handhold.

And in so doing, lost his grip on the basket.

Zuko felt his uncle's warm, steadying hand mere seconds before he heard the basket's inevitable _crash!_

Holding back a wince, he locked eyes with his uncle before glancing downward, where the contents of the basket had spilled across the floor.

Apologies had never really been his thing, at least, not in recent years. Since his banishment, he'd been too angry to apologize to anyone, but he was still learning… Slowly.

_Painstakingly._

And even now, he felt the strange urge to apologize for something as trivial as a spilled basket.

The words died on his lips when he caught sight of the parchment peeking out of the carrier, rather, the portrait _on_ the parchment.

Zuko felt a bit of his color drain. How could he _forget?_ His uncle always remembered the anniversary of his banishment. _Always._ How had he been so callous, so self-focused as to forget the date of his cousin's birthday? Of his uncle's only son…

_Stupid, stupid,_ _**stupid!** _

While Zuko was trying to wrap his spinning head around this revelation, his uncle had knelt down and was already packing the basket back up again.

_Stupid, stupid,_ _**stupid** _ _!_

How could he just _forget?_

"I didn't mean to drop it like that," he said as he joined Iroh on the floor, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper.

"How _did_ you mean to drop it?"

And when Zuko glanced at his uncle, he had to force himself not to look back down.

Because there was a sad twinkle in Iroh's eyes that Zuko didn't know how to deal with. A depressing mix of the heaviness of the day and a feeble attempt at humor.

It was a mix Zuko wasn't sure he could handle. Not today.

Of all days, not on _the_ day.

_Not the floor,_ he retorted, though it sounded a lot more like "I'm sorry" when finally uttered aloud.

"It was an accident, Zuko," Iroh replied, his tone as gentle as ever.

"No," Zuko pressed, squeezing his eyes shut, "I mean, I'm _sorry_." When he found the courage to open them again, his uncle was still there. Still kneeling, still waiting.

His sad eyes having lost their twinkle.

Zuko let his gaze drift to the floor, where Lu Ten's portrait still rested peacefully. "Today… I forgot. I can't believe—" He felt his fingers clench as he sucked in a breath. "He was… a good cousin, and an even better friend, and—" And now he was rambling, but he couldn't seem to stop. As long as he didn't look up, he'd be fine. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

He knew what he'd see if did and he wasn't prepared. Not yet.

_Not today…_

"And I can't believe I forgot something so important. You _never_ forget, and I always… I just didn't… I wasn't thinking and couldn't—"

At the sudden warmth that enveloped his hand, Zuko couldn't stop himself in time. He glanced up at his uncle.

Iroh's eyes were glazed over with unshed tears, just as the young prince had predicted, and the mere sight of such raw emotion was pummeling the back of Zuko's own eyes with an unpleasant sensation.

A series of short, rapid blinks was his only defense against the unwanted tears. He would settle for nothing less than success, no matter how difficult his uncle's emotions were making things.

"Oh, Zuko," Iroh sighed, tightening his tender hold on his nephew's hand.

Zuko blinked faster.

"There's no need to apologize. The last three years have been so stressful for you, it's understandable to forget your cousin's birthday."

Zuko blinked harder.

"But… But you remember _everything_. Every birthday and anniversary, everyone's name and favorite tea, and—and I forgot the date that's the most important to you."

"Zuko, it's all _right._ You need to relax."

As Zuko watched his uncle pick up the parchment and gently finger it before placing it back in the basket, he found himself losing the battle against his eyes and promptly shut them again.

It was easier than blinking, anyway. At least in this, he wouldn't be defeated.

Not like he had in everything else.

Even the _tea_ in the _teapot_ was well on its way to defeating him.

"Why do you even stay?" The question escaped the heavily fortified barriers that were his lips before he could even think of stopping them.

It was one thought that had remained captive in his mind for years now—one of many that was never meant to be released.

He sucked in a breath before opening his eyes, his gaze coming to rest mere inches below his uncle's own concerned stare. There was no going back now.

It was either continue or risk looking like an idiot. Though, he supposed he'd already done _that_.

"I've been…" The portrait of a serene-looking Lu Ten flashed across his mind's eye and Zuko lowered his gaze even further. "I've been so horrible to you. Why do you even stay with me? What makes you stay?"

He was surprised to hear Iroh chuckle. It wasn't his usual hearty laugh, or even anything remotely close to light-hearted, but it was a chuckle nonetheless—and it was _familiar_.

And in a giant city of earth benders that practically defined the terms _new_ and _foreign_ , Zuko found himself craving familiarity.

"Why?" Iroh said at last, a sad smile gracing his face. "I already told you. At the North Pole. And, nephew, despite what you've chosen to believe about yourself, I _know_ you remember that."

Of course, he did. It was a conversation he could never forget. Even now, his uncle's words flickered through his memory.

_"Ever since I lost my son…. I think of you as my own."_

"And besides," Iroh added in a lighter tone, "I can't allow you to be a fugitive all by yourself. I'd get lonely."

Zuko glanced up just in time to catch his uncle's wink. And with that, the heavy mood seemed to melt away into something more casual. More _familiar_.

As they both rose from the knee-torturing floor, Zuko wondered if he would ever understand his uncle.

The things the man did, the way he lived and loved others… It just didn't make sense sometimes.

How could a man who'd lost so much be so kind? So loving and gentle?

Zuko had endured similar hardships and lost his fair share of loved ones, and yet, he had a hard time even putting a smile on his face.

Not for the first time, he thought about where he'd be without Iroh. _Probably dead in a ditch somewhere,_ if he was being honest with himself.

A rare feat, indeed.

Zuko blinked once more, a precaution against any lingering emotions, and his uncle picked up the basket, placing it on a small table near the edge of the room.

Where Zuko knew it would stay until they found a better place for it. A more honorable place.

Because Lu Tun didn't deserve to be tucked away in the darkest corners of the apartment.

Until then, the table would have to do.

_Until then…_

"Now," Iroh began with a smile, dusting himself off, "I believe you were making me some tea?"

And when his uncle turned toward the teapot, Zuko found his own lips stretching into that unfamiliar expression.

And maybe, just for that moment, unfamiliar was okay…

Maybe, eventually, it could even be _good_.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the story, stay tuned for its sequel coming soon! ;)


End file.
